The sky of Jotunheim looked like a wound that would never heal.
A deep crimson.
Slowly pulsing like the heart of something dying.
Dark clouds hung low, twisting like the entrails of a colossal beast floating in the air. The ground where Kafka walked was cracked and blackened, as if this world had once been burned by the wrath of gods and then abandoned to rot.
Kafka followed the man who had saved him—Eldric Vaelorian.
Eldric's steps were heavy, yet relaxed. Like someone who had walked across too many corpses to care whether the ground beneath him was alive or dead.
The cigarette that never went out rested at the corner of his lips. The small ember at its tip glowed like a lonely star in the sky of hell.
"Walk faster, little prince," Eldric muttered without looking back.
Kafka frowned.
That nickname again.
Little prince.
The words felt foreign to his ears, yet strangely… they also sounded like echoes from a life he once had but had been stolen away by time.
They walked for quite a while across fields littered with monster bones. Giant skulls as large as houses were scattered like gravestones for a dead world.
And then Kafka saw it.
Eldric's home.
He froze.
In the middle of the barren wasteland stood something so enormous that the red sky looked like a curtain behind it.
A gigantic serpent.
Or rather—
the corpse of a gigantic serpent.
Its body coiled like black mountains turned to stone. Each scale was as large as a war shield, dull and pale like dead metal. Its rib bones rose outward like the arches of an ancient cathedral.
And inside those hollow bones—
Eldric lived.
"Welcome to my home," he said casually.
Kafka could only stare with widened eyes.
"Was… that once a living creature?"
Eldric exhaled a long stream of smoke.
"Once. Now it's just property."
He leapt lightly over one of the giant ribs and stepped into the creature's hollow chest cavity.
Kafka followed.
Inside, it was surprisingly warm. Small fires burned in several corners, illuminating a chamber built from bone and monster hide hardened like stone.
There was a crude table.
Several blood-forged weapons embedded in the walls.
And… piles of old books.
Eldric sat down casually on a chair made from the skull of a smaller monster.
"Sit down, little prince."
Kafka remained standing.
"Stop calling me that."
Eldric chuckled softly.
"Alright then, Kafka Cassano."
Kafka froze.
"…What?"
Eldric slowly inhaled his cigarette.
"I suppose it's time you learned… who you really are."
The campfire in the center of the room crackled softly.
As if the world itself was holding its breath.
"Long ago," Eldric said quietly, "before this world became a nightmare… there was a kingdom called Grand Aurelis."
Kafka listened.
"That kingdom was ruled by an incredibly powerful king."
Eldric stared into the fire.
"His name was King Viedris Cassano."
The name felt heavy in the air.
Like an ancient bell ringing inside a forgotten memory.
"He wasn't just a king," Eldric continued.
"He was the symbol of the world's balance."
Kafka frowned.
"Cassano…?"
Eldric looked at him.
"Yes. Your family name."
Kafka felt something collapse inside his chest.
"Your father… was King Viedris Cassano."
The firelight reflected in Eldric's eyes.
"And if my guess is correct… Arga is a Cassano too."
Kafka lifted his head.
"Arga?"
Eldric nodded.
"You said you were both found together in the orphanage. Two infants in the same place."
He sighed deeply.
"That means most likely…"
He looked straight at Kafka.
"Arga is your brother."
The world felt as if it had stopped turning.
Memories of Arga flashed through Kafka's mind.
Laughing in the orphanage yard.
Sharing dry bread.
Petty arguments.
Training in martial arts together.
And finally—
fighting until they nearly killed each other.
Kafka clenched his fists.
"…That's impossible."
Eldric shrugged.
"Blood never lies."
He stood and walked toward a massive wall of bone.
"But to understand all this…"
He tapped the giant bone.
"You must first understand the world you were born into."
Eldric drew something on the ground using the tip of his blood dagger.
Five large shapes.
"This world is called Aethernox."
He pointed at the first shape.
"The human continent. Solareth."
As he spoke, visions of the past seemed to come alive in the air.
Vast forests.
Clear rivers.
Marble cities shining beneath the sun.
Two great powers stood there.
The Kingdom of Grand Aurelis.
The kingdom of Kafka's father.
And in the east—
the Yue Empire.
An empire ruled by three legendary clans:
The Clan of Truth
The Clan of Evil
And the Vaelorian Clan.
Eldric smiled faintly.
"Yes. My family's clan."
Smoke filled the room.
"Back then, we were often called the Blood Demon Cult."
He continued.
"The second continent is Sylvaranth."
A land of colossal trees that touched the sky.
Home of the Elves and Dryads.
Two nations existed there:
The Kingdom of Lythariel — a traditional elven monarchy that revered nature.
And the Republic of Akademia Elarion — a democratic state that housed the greatest academies in all of Aethernox.
Even genius humans studied there.
"A place for open-minded people," Eldric said.
He pointed to the third continent.
"Vulkrath."
A land of volcanoes and oceans of lava.
Three kingdoms stood there:
The Dwarf Kingdom of Drakmor — master weapon smiths who could not use magic but created the most lethal technology.
The Beastkin Kingdom of Feragorn — beast-men with extraordinary physical strength.
And the final kingdom—
Pyronis Ignivar.
A race of fire-elemental humanoids born from lava.
Kafka remained silent.
The world was far larger than he had ever imagined.
"The fourth continent," Eldric continued,
"Noxvale."
A land of eternal ice.
Only one race could survive there—
The Frostborne.
Ice-humans with bodies like frozen crystal.
Their nation was called Crysaleth.
Their government was democratic.
They loved music.
Culture.
Art.
And always remained neutral during wars.
"The world needs a place like that," Eldric murmured.
Then he pointed to the final continent.
A small land.
But the most dangerous.
"Kage no Kuni."
The land of shinobi.
A secretive order.
They did not care about race.
They did not care about origin.
If you were strong—
you were accepted.
Shinobi did not pursue power.
They did not pursue territory.
They pursued only perfection of technique.
Yet in every war—
they always won.
Not because of numbers.
But because of shadows.
"Wars are not won by swords on the battlefield," Eldric said quietly.
"They're won by the unseen hand."
The Four Sources of Power
Eldric looked at Kafka.
"Now, about power."
He raised four fingers.
"In this world there are four main sources of energy."
First finger.
Mana.
Energy given at birth.
The source of elemental magic.
Fire.
Water.
Wind.
Lightning.
"The amount is determined from birth," Eldric explained.
"It cannot increase. Only be trained and controlled."
Second finger.
Inner Energy.
A rarer force, mostly possessed by humans and beastkin.
Unlike mana—
inner energy can grow.
Through training.
Meditation.
And cultivation.
"Your blood techniques are one form of cultivation."
Kafka looked at his hands.
Hands that had turned blood into weapons.
Third finger.
Natural Energy.
The wild energy of the world.
Limitless.
Endless.
But only certain races could merge with it.
Only a few rare humans could survive it.
The races that used it most were:
Elves.
Dark elves.
Dryads.
If the body was incompatible—
the energy would burn the user from within.
Fourth finger.
Eldric smiled.
Ore Power.
Energy created by dwarves.
Because they possessed neither mana nor inner energy.
They found another path.
Minerals.
Legendary stones.
Through Drakmor techniques, they absorbed mineral energy and created living armor fused with their DNA.
Kafka stared at the markings on the ground.
But Eldric was not finished.
"And the three most powerful minerals in this world are…"
He tapped the ground three times.
Aetherion — a mineral that amplifies magic beyond human limits.
Voidcryst — a black crystal capable of absorbing any energy.
Ignisheart Ore — a stone containing the core flame of the planet.
"With these stones… a dwarf can become a walking monster."
Kafka inhaled slowly.
"What about the shinobi?"
Eldric smiled.
He knew that curiosity well.
"Shinobi must master all four energies."
Kafka's eyes widened.
"That's impossible."
Eldric shrugged.
"That's why they're feared."
The fire suddenly crackled louder.
Eldric fell silent for a moment.
His expression darkened.
"But all that balance was destroyed… when they arrived."
Kafka looked up.
"They?"
Eldric stared at the red sky of Jotunheim visible through the serpent bones.
"Those who call themselves…"
He spoke the word with disdain.
"Gods."
They came from the sky.
Not from this world.
Their first landing place was—
Kage no Kuni.
The land of the shinobi.
The sky split open.
Cosmic light fell like spears from heaven.
And when the light faded—
the continent was gone.
What remained was only—
Jotunheim.
The land of demons.
The land of monsters.
The land of death.
The surviving shinobi fled to Solareth.
To Grand Aurelis.
To the Yue Empire.
And the remnants of the shinobi united to fight the threat from the heavens.
The greatest war in world history began.
Kafka swallowed.
"What kind of energy do they use?"
Eldric looked at him.
His eyes dim like dying stars.
"Energy that does not belong to this world."
He spoke two words quietly.
Cosmic Energy.
An energy capable of—
bending space.
twisting time.
shattering the laws of reality.
"With that power," Eldric whispered,
"they nearly wiped out all of Aethernox."
The campfire flickered.
Eldric's shadow stretched across the serpent bone walls.
Kafka felt a chill run down his spine.
This world was far larger.
Far darker.
Than he had ever imagined.
Eldric looked at him once more.
"Your origins… the war of the gods… the destruction of the world…"
He exhaled a long stream of smoke.
"This is only the beginning, little prince."
Outside the carcass of the giant serpent, the winds of Jotunheim howled like spirits that refused to die.
And far within the crimson sky—
something moved.
Like an eye that had just awakened.
~To Be Continued~